How To Be A Wildcat
by Temporarily-Obsessed
Summary: Two years have passed since Katze's rescue. Life had begun to even out, but then a man named Victor comes, claiming to be Logan's brother. Plus there's a mutant school England that Storm found... Sequel to X-Men Sprouts: Cougar. DISCONTINUED
1. A Man Called Victor

_**SUMMARY: Two years have passed since Katze's rescue. Life had begun to even out, but then a man named Victor comes, claiming to be Logan's brother. Sequel to **__**X-Men Sprouts: Cougar**__**.**_

**1: A Man Called Victor**

It's been a long time since my capture and rescue. It's been over two years since I found my father. It's been about two years since Logan finally admitted that he actually enjoys my presence. And it's been two years since Gena and Gemma showed up in our lives, becomin' a permanent fixture.

But it's only been six months since Gemma found out about her family's demise. She was kidnapped, like me, but four years earlier than I. Her family died in the struggle for her. She had lived in a cage for 1, 460 days, her only hope bein' that her family would find her and take her away from that hellhole.

By the way, I'm Katze Silver. I live at and help teach P.E. at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, even though I'm 18 and almost two months. (It's June 29th.)My best friends are Caryssa Jameson and Gemma Timothy, though I'm pretty close to Kenya Jameson, Iviey Smieth, Ginnie White, and Ruthia Greene. My mother is Jayne Silver, and my father is Logan, also called Wolverine. Like him, I have another name. Mine is Cougar.

I'm a mutant. I look like a normal, albeit a tall and irritable, girl with messy, short dark brown hair and gold eyes, but I can heal from any wound expect a broken major bone in about three seconds. And death. Death takes longer; usually, I reawaken in five minutes or so.

I'll let you process that.

I also have knuckle-claws made of a hard, white, and slightly sparkly material, an original one seen only in my body by way of my bones. The doctor here at the school, Hank, calls it Aevuminorium. 'Aevuminor' is Latin for 'Ageless', and, if Logan is any indication, I'll never age or die. Well, permanently, anyway. And I'll look 18 forever. Aevuminorium is the second-hardest material on earth; Adamantium is the first. But even that has issues makin' a dent on me.

I'm just awesome like that.

* * *

"I'm hot," Caryssa whines.

"Oh, shush, whinosaurus," Iviey snaps, fannin' herself.

Normally they all make fun of me for wearin' tiny shorts and wifebeaters, but today, it's so hot that they're all imitatin' me with shorts and itty-bitty little spaghetti-strap shirts. Kenya's boyfriend, Bobby, came in, saw a roomful of barely-clothed chicks, made a funny gulpin' noise and left again. That was an hour ago; we had a good laugh over it. Now the seven of us (Caryssa, Gemma, Iviey, Ruthia, Kenya, Ginnie, and I) are bored again. Plus the heat is unbearable.

The doorbell rings.

"Door," we all call in unison.

"Don't all jump at once," Logan grumbles from the other room.

"Why would we do that?" asks Kenya lazily. "That would involve _movement_."

"Don't dig yourself a deeper grave there, chica," Ruthia warns, placin' her olive ankles across Gemma's sequoia-and-coffee bean lap, who shoves her feet off with a deadly Look.

"It's _way _too hot for that, girl. If you like those appendages attached to your legs, I wouldn't do that."

Ruthia snatches her ankles away as whoever's behind the door bangs on it, losin' all polite pretenses.

"Door," we call again.

"God, a girl goes to shower and suddenly everyone's lazy?" Gena snaps, runnin' down the giant staircase, strokin' her hair impatiently with a pristine white towel.

"We already _were_ lazy," Ginnie explains, liftin' her black hair off her neck.

Gena rolls her eyes at us, and Logan walks into the room with a beer in hand, eyein' the scantily clad Gena. All she's wearin' is loose, tiny, and thin black cotton dress, and it clings to her damp skin in a way Logan clearly likes. Personally, I'm lookin' at her hair- I envy it horribly. It's real long, past her waist, a rich coppery auburn, and straight as a stick.

Logan has the hots for Gena.

He's constantly flirtin' with her and checkin' her out, and askin' her if she's busy later. She flirts back but generally blows him off. 'Course, she flirts with any man who stands still long enough to stare at her. So, of course, Logan pines ever more after her. He's completely smitten. And Gena totally knows it and abuses it.

Not that I can blame her. I would, too, if it were me.

I think they've had sex, too. At least, I think that was the strangled cat noises I heard in February. It would also explain why Gena stoutly ignored Logan for three weeks.

It was during those three weeks that Storm finally asked her to be a part of the X-Men. Gena became the elusive and fiery Fox of the well-known team.

Logan won't let me join. "I'd as soon gut ya myself," as he put it.

Psh. It's not like I can die for any length of time.

"Logan, please stop starin' at my ass," Gena says pleasantly. "I know, it's a very nice ass, but it doesn't like being stared at as much as the rest of me."

_BANG. BANG. BANG._

"Is anyone gonna get the door?" Gena sighs.

"Yeah," Logan snaps happily. "You."

"Just for that, dimwit," Gena replies patiently, "you can get it."

Logan mutters under his breath, but with another _BANG_, he strides over to the door. Glarin' dramatically at us all, he sweeps it open.

The man behind it is stocky, with short black hair and sideburns, ones a lot like Logan's, actually, but shorter and more bristly. He's a bit shorter than Logan, but he certainly looks happier. He grins at my father, revealin' slight fangs.

"You're a hard man to find, Jimmy, my boy."

"What the hell are ya talkin' about?" Logan snarls, poppin' out his claws.

"Don't tell me you don't recall your own brother," laughs the man, clearly uncaring of the Adamantium knives comin' out of my father's knuckles.

"_Who_ are you?" I ask, quite confused, rememberin' a conversation with a certain Colonel.

The man looks at me as I stride over to my father, and then at Logan, who's poised to fight, a look of comprehension and glee dawnin' on his tan face.

"Well, Jimmy, looks like you got busy!" the man roars. "Who's this?"

"We've been wonderin' that about you!" I growl. I know my eyes are practically sparking.

"Victor Creed. But didn't Daddy tell ya all about horrible Uncle Vicky?"

Screamin', Gemma launches off the couch and propels herself at him.

"Well," Victor smirks as Kenya, Ginnie, and Ruthia hold her back. "If it isn't Gemma Timothy, the plant mutant."


	2. A Shady History

**2: A Shady History**

It turns out that Victor works, sometimes, or "when I feel like it", for Stryker. And it also turns out that he was the one to capture Gemma. Y'know, the one she tried to strangle with poison ivy.

After tryin' to kill my uncle (God, that sounds so weird), Gemma calms down and limits herself to just starin' at Victor murderously. I didn't even know her kind, open, joyful face could even _make _that kind of look. Then again, I didn't know that Ginnie was strong enough to hold the tall, strong-built (but still thin, lucky chick) Gemma from killin' someone. But then, she had Ruthia and Kenya helpin', and if anyone could hold Gemma back, it would be Ruthia. I guess that's what daily doses of Protection Enlightenment give you. A school chock-full of really strong mutants.

"You're the one who killed Gemma's family?" Gena says, dangerous quiet.

"Yeah," Victor says, completely unabashed.

With another wild shriek, Gemma leaps to strangle him. This time, it's Kenya and Caryssa who hold her back.

"Down, girl," Victor laughs, tauntin' her.

"This is the woman who me in we're talking about!" she screams, strugglin' against the holds of her friends. "The man who taught me to fish! The boy who picked flowers for Mama!"

"How dare I what?" he queries casually, lookin' at his nails, which are a nasty yellow color and look like claws.

"How dare you treat them like their deaths were nothing! They were _everything_!"

"Not to me," Victor points out. "And just to you."

"Let me _go_!" Gemma rages at the twins. "Let me kill him!"

"More like _he _would kill _you_, Gem," Iviey mutters, indicatin' the 6'0, muscled, clawed-like-cat man.

"I'll shove a knife down his throat!" Gemma snarls, her face contortin'.

"I'd like to see you try," Victor smirks, crouchin' slightly, his fingers slightly apart as his weird smile unfurls like a carpet at the black teenager.

"Let me at him!" Gemma demands.

"Gemma, calm down," Gena orders. And though Gemma would obey her over anyone else, she doesn't even pause.

By now, students and other teachers have come to see what the commotion's all about. Ten- and twelve-year-olds with glasses and braces gape at the scene before them. Teachers are pushin' their way to the front, to help us.

"No!" Gemma screams at Gena. "I will not calm down! What if he was the man who killed Alexander? Huh? How would you react?"

"Alexander died in a factory mishap," Gena replies quietly, but her dark brown eyes flash.

"As far as you know," Gemma adds nastily. Her hair is tangled around her face, and her eyes are wide with tiny pupils. She looks wild, insane, even. "And we aren't talking about a lover here, we're talking about my _family_!"

"Gemma, stop!" I cry out. "Obviously it was a job for him. He didn't know how it would affect you!"

"You're _defending him_?!" Gemma shrieks, turnin' her mad eyes on me. "_How could you_?!"

"Well, he is family," I reply, both defensive and sheepish. "And I don't have a lot of that."

"And I don't have any, thanks to _him_!"

"Would you really take away somethin' that's mine?" I whisper. I couldn't care less about Victor, but I have a gut feelin' that he would slaughter her in a fight. Or even just for fun. My gut feelings tend to prove correct, and after the whole bomb-and-Logan's-head ordeal, most people listen to those instincts.

"Yes!" Gemma gasps, but goes limp against the hold of the blonde sisters.

"Please, Gemma," I say quietly. "You can kill him later."

Storm, despite her (many) misgivings, gave Victor a room, away from the kids' rooms and mine, Gemma, Caryssa, Kenya, Ruthia, Ginnie, and Iviey's dorm-room. We can keep Gemma in until she's not… violent anymore, and the teachers can (hopefully) control Victor. Gemma will get less angry; she's naturally forgivin', so she just needs time.

I hope.

But late, or, as I should say, extremely early- like, kill-me-already-why-the-hell-am-I-up-at-this-hour? early- I creep out of the room. Gemma's asleep, finally, and Ruthia's watchin' her to make sure she doesn't wake up and go murder our guest.

I want to talk to him. I want to truly meet my uncle. If he really is.

You see, I don't have much of a family life. My mom lives in Ohio and hates my father; she's not happy I live here. My Aunt Lilly is a drunk. My grandmother hates her "goddamn mutant granddaughter". I only found my dad a few years ago and we have a lovely love-hate relationship. Well, maybe not _hate_, but we argue a lot.

Everyone says it's because we're so alike. Whatever.

But anyway, back to Victor. I knock on his door after a small hesitation. The door opens, almost immediately. Maybe he has strong senses, like Logan and I?

"Yeah?" he grunts, crossin' his burly arms.

"I just…" I pause, bitin' my top lip. "I just wanted to talk to you."

"You're my niece?" he clarifies, still firmly in my way.

"Yeah. I am if you really are Logan's brother," I correct myself.

"Half-brothers. We had different mothers."

"What was your father's name?" I ask, cockin' my head and squintin' a little. Is he carryin' a gun under that long black coat? I think I see the outline.

"Samuel. Creed."

"Why do you call him- Logan, I mean- Jimmy?" I ask, knowin' I'm bombardin' him with questions, but I really can't help it. I just want to _know_.

That's always my problem.

"That's what I always call him. Jimmy. Why do you call him Logan?" he fires back.

"That's his name. It's was on his dogtags. Logan and Wolverine," I explain. "It's all he has on his past. That, and an Adamantium-coated skeleton."

"His full name is James Howlett," Victor mutters, pickin' at his claws. They're _nasty_-lookin'. "Not sure where he picked up Logan, but there ya are."

"James. Jimmy," I say, carefully rollin' the names around my mouth like gum. "I dunno if I could call him that. He'll always be Logan to me, I think."

"Why don't ya call him Daddy?" Victor mocks, but I can tell he actually wants to know. At least, that's what I tell myself.

"I've only known him for a little over two years," I reply easily. "Can I come in? My feet are cold."

Gruntin' and mutterin' under his breath, Victor moves his mountainous body to let me in. I plop on the bed.

What can I say? I have no pride. And it's not like there's anywhere else to sit. But Victor gives me a Look anyway.

"Anyways, I grew up with my mom, Jayne Silver, and with her numerous and short-lived relationships. I don't think she's ever kept a boyfriend longer than three months. She didn't tell me who my dad was until I turned sixteen, and then I ran away and found him. Then there was the whole kidnappin' escapade-" Victor gives me a confused look. "-but I'm not gettin' into that, and that was when Mom found out where I was. Boy, she was _pissed_. But I talked to her, and I got to go to school here and spend summers with her, and then I turned eighteen last spring and decided to stay here for the summer."

"Is this the face of someone who cares?" Victor answers in a flat tone. "No, it is not."

"Shut up, loser," I say good-naturedly. I bounce a little on the bed. "Why isn't my bed this soft? That's so rigged."

"Did you just call me a loser?" Victor asks in an angered tone. I look at him.

"Um, _yeah_. But I only call what I see. What?! You got the nice blanket?! That's so unfair! I _petitioned_ for the damn thing! No one signed it, but whatever-"

"_Did you just call me a loser._"

It's not a question. I stop bouncing and raise an eyebrow.

"Yup."

Victor glares at me, and then starts laughin'.

"You got guts. I like that. Don't change it."

I think that's when I first laughed _with_ Uncle Victor.


	3. The Controversies

**3: The Controversies**

"What I don't understand," Gemma says through gritted teeth, "is how you can hang around a _murderer_."

"He has violent tendencies, yeah," I admit, "but so do I."

"You've never killed anyone!" Kenya answers, fire in her green eyes.

"That's not true!" I protest. "I killed that one guy! What's-his-face."

"Josh Tribind? Yeah, and that took real skill," Ruthia replies sarcastically.

"And we mean someone _innocent_," Ginnie stresses. "Binder was not innocent. He tried to, um, hurt Iviey. As if she hasn't been through enough!"

"If you mean rape, say rape," Iviey snaps. "And I'm still in Kat's debt for that. SO quit ganging up on her! Just because she has a messed up moral compass doesn't mean we can all pile up on her!"

"Am I supposed to say thank you?" I ask her dryly. She smirks at me.

We're all sittin' in our dorm-room, fannin' ourselves and arguin'.

It's been about a month since I started talkin' to and hangin' around Victor. He's kinda fun. I mean, I he's violent, bad-tempered, murderous, and sneaky, but he has a fun sense of humor, knows a lot about Logan, and he has a ton of history, plus he _is_ family.

It was official; a blood test had been done and Logan and Victor were declared siblings. This didn't improve Logan's mood; he spends most of time in his room, just mopin'.

Gena, I found, does not get along with Victor. Apparently, he made a pass at her and she didn't take kindly to it. I think she cussed him out and then left him in her dust. He was grumpy that day, and he seethed for hours.

I love Gena. She adds so much flavor to the house.

At the same time, though, Gena has been out of sorts. I think she misses Logan. Victor, in her mind, (And everyone else's) is not an acceptable replacement. In fact, I'm pretty sure she hates him. But then, Gena hates a lot of people.

What I don't understand in why Gena ignored Logan when he was available, but now that he's hidin', she wants him back. I don't know if I'll ever understand.

I kinda doubt it.

* * *

"Can I ask you a question?" Bobby asks me, slurpin' the last of his milk from the bottom of his bowl.

"Sure, why not," I reply, crunchin' on my Oreo.

"How can you stand Sabertooth?"

"Who?"

"Sabertooth."

"Again I say: Who?"

Bobby sighs. "Victor."

"Oh. I dunno," I shrug, dippin' another cookie in my milk. "I just get along with him. He's funny."

"_Funny_?" Bobby splutters. "He's a murderer!"

"So are you," I reply placidly.

"Only in defense!" he responds angrily, pale eyes flashin' at me.

"Blood is blood. Don't try to justify it," I reply. "I'm going to bed."

God. Does everyone have to pick on me?

* * *

Probably.

* * *

"Logan?!" Gena shrieks, poundin' on his door. "Get out here right now!"

No response.

"Logan!" I bark out. "Quit mopin' and come out of the bat cave, now!"

"You can't boss me around, missy!" Logan growls through the door.

Improvement.

"Make me stop," I taunt. "Come out and teach me a lesson"

"No," he replies petulantly.

"James Howlett!" Victor bites out, saunterin' into the hall, beckoned by our shouts. "Don't make me go in there and drag your sorry ass out!"

A silence hangs over us like a fog.

"Who's James Howlett?" Gena queries stiffly, her brows burrowin' towards her sharp nose.

"Logan's birth name," I explain simply. Gena's face goes from confused to disbelievingly sarcastic.

"Sure it is."

"Believe it," Victor replies, not even sparin' her a glare.

Logan's door swings open.

"You squabble like hens," he complains.

"Gee, thanks." I roll my eyes.

Gena goes up to Logan, whispers in his all-too-unwilling ears, and tugs him gently into the bedroom again.

_Slam_.

"I think that's our cue to leave," I sigh. Victor smirks.

"Are you kiddin'? Things just got interestin'!"

"Pervert," I laugh. "_I'm _going. I don't need my virgin ears scarred,"

"If your ears are virgin, so am I," Victor snorts.

"Dude. _Don't _need to know."

* * *

Storm stands up at dinner, and everyone goes quiet.

"I have an announcement."

_No duh._

"I have found out about another school with similar goals to ours," she continues.

_Translation: she's found another mutant school._

Muttering breaks out like the plague.

"Another _mutant_ school?"

"What does that mean for us?"

"Where is it?"

"Why haven't we heard about it before?"

"Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaait…"

"It's just outside London, England. It is called Minewalde Academy of Fine Talent." Storm pauses. "I've invited them to send a few… select… students here as exchange students to expand their knowledge. A few students have been invited over to their school. You may see me in my office after dinner if you would like this opportunity," Storm finishes.

"I'm going," Caryssa says immediately.

"Great," I mutter.

As if life wasn't complicated enough.


End file.
